


Snooze On Me, Not Without Me

by JoifulDreaming



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Good Omens Lockdown, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:47:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25128745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoifulDreaming/pseuds/JoifulDreaming
Summary: Crowley overslept
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 122





	Snooze On Me, Not Without Me

The first thing he notices when his senses return to him is that he isn’t in bed. Not just not in his bed, he’s not in a bed at all. The second thing he notices lets him know where he is not in a bed: the smell of the very familiar leather sofa first and then the nearly-overpowering scent of older leather and dusty paper. It’s a unique smell: dusty paper. There’s a hint of vanilla to it that you can’t detect in newer pages. There’s only one being in his life that smells like ancient leather and dusty vanilla pages.

Crowley opens his eyes to find himself facing the back of the sofa in Aziraphale’s back room. He wiggles a little, stretching his limbs and knocks an tattered tartan blanket off his shoulders.

He’s not worried, particularly, that he fell asleep in his bed at home and wound up in Aziraphale’s bookshop. Not scared, in any case. Curious, that’s what he is. If anything, he’s safer here than he is at home and he is willing to acknowledge this.

Rolling over as he wipes the sleep from his eyes he spots Aziraphale across from him in an over-stuffed chair. There’s a book in his lap, but the angel isn’t looking at it. Instead, his eyes dart around the room, occasionally landing on Crowley only to skitter away quickly. His face is pulled tight with a look that Crowley has come to know well over the years: one that says he knows he’s done something he shouldn’t have, but that he felt it was right at the time and he wouldn’t take it back... only now he has to face consequences for it. Crowley’s seen that look so many times over their thousands of years of friendship. It’s a look that heaven gives him, not Crowley, and he would very much like to never see it on the angel’s face again.

“‘morning, Angel.”

“Crowley.” If anything, Aziraphale’s face was pinching up tighter.

“Did you miss me?”

Aziraphale was looking at the floor, hard. That was meant to be a joke to break the tension, but somehow it had made things worse. He looked like he was awaiting more than a stern memo.

“Hey,” Crowley sat up and leaned against the back of the sofa, going for looking more relaxed than he felt in hopes of bringing calm, “Angel, I was only kidding.”

Some of the tension drained out of Aziraphale’s shoulders, but all of it remained in his face. His eyes looked glassy.

“Okay, you’re scaring me, now. I don’t mind waking up here, Angel, honest I don’t. I’m not going to send you a nasty memo. I’m not... I’m not Them.”

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale shook himself, eyes going back to darting rather than fixating on the floor, “A lot happened while you were sleeping.”

“Humans get a handle on things?”

“Not particularly.”

“Huh.”

“Crowley, it’s the 7th of July.”

“Hmm, I overslept in a little.”

“A little?”

Crowley looked up to find the angel staring straight at him now, eyes somehow wetter than before, but also fiercer. Were they glowing? That had to be his imagination.

“I worried for two months if you were okay. But, I told myself you were in your own home... you wouldn’t leave yourself vulnerable while you slept.”

“I wouldn’t!”

“But then people started dying. First a few and then hundreds. Thousands. People in this city. People I know. People who came here to read, but understood that they weren’t to take my books.”

“I’m sorry about your friends.”

“We weren’t friends! They... They were just people I knew. People I’m comfortable cohabitating with.”

“Okay.”

“And I thought, surely, I would hear from you on the first of the month. I kept thinking that. Just wait until the first of July and you’ll know he’s okay,” Aziraphale was gripping the book in his lap so tightly his knuckles had gone white, “then the first came and went and I don’t hear from you.”

“I never said...” the words died in Crowley’s throat under the weight of Aziraphale’s stare. Some of the lines had smoothed out. The angel looked... tired. “You know I can’t get human diseases.”

“Yes, I know that.”

Crowley blinked at him, waiting for him to say more.

“But, what I don’t know... every time you are out of my sight... is if Hell has come for you and I w-won’t see you again,” here Aziraphale took a deep breath and swallowed hard, “I tried to be respectful and let you be. Especially... well, especially after you offered to come here to begin with. But, every day that went by I kept thinking about going to your flat and finding out you were gone. What...” He cut himself off and stopped, eyes drifting away.

“What?”

“What is this world for me, Crowley, if you’re not in it?”

The sheer familiarity of the thought punched a figurative hole right through Crowley’s chest, making it throb and ache with remembered history: the desperation with which he tried to get the angel to run with him while they still had a chance. As much as he loved Earth and the freedom it granted him, his world revolved around one angel.

“Would you come sit with me over here?”

Aziraphale stared at him in question.

“I think you’ll appreciate me later if I don’t let you absolutely destroy that book right now.” Crowley smirked at him, hoping to dispel some of the choking seriousness in the room. Aziraphale looked down in his lap and immediately unclenched his hands, frantically checking the book for damage.

“Is the book okay?”

“It seems to be.”

“Put it aside to re-cooperate and come over here, then.”

Aziraphale got up, walked over, and perched beside him. He carefully kept room between them and Crowley noticed, respecting it but sighing inwardly.

“So when did you bring me here?”

“Yesterday.”

“You waited six days?”

“I tried, Crowley. I... I understand that it’s an invasion of your privacy.” Now that nothing was in his lap to destroy, his hands were fidgeting with one another. Crowley reached over, hesitated, and then covered them with one of his.

“Angel, I would never mind waking up to find you around.”

“That’s... Hmm, that’s an unusually kind thing to say.”

“Kind,” Crowley laughed, squeezing his hands, “I’ll let you get away with that one for now...”

Aziraphale carefully turned one of his hands over and threaded his fingers through Crowley’s, holding them loosely enough that the demon could pull away if he chose. Like Crowley would want to do that. He locked their fingers together tightly, squeezing his hand. He watched as more of the tension seemed to ease off the angel.

“Really, I’m not mad.”

“Not even a little?”

“Not even a little. I’m glad you were looking out for me.”

“I’m always looking out for you.”

“It wouldn’t hold much for me, either, you know.” Crowley couldn’t stop the words, but he nearly choked on them as they left him.

“What wouldn’t?”

“The world,” Crowley coughed, squeezing his hand again, “you know... without you.”

“Oh.” Color returned to Aziraphale’s face swiftly, rising on the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Crowley hadn’t even realized how pale the angel had been until the color appeared. It was a good sight to see.

“I could weather the resst of the lockdown here with you... if you want.”

“The official lockdown is over.”

Crowley hummed softly, gently stroking his thumb over Aziraphale’s hand.

“B-but, we’re encouraged to... to stay in when at all possible.” Aziraphale still looked tired to Crowley, but he now had the gleam in his eyes that said he knew he was getting away with something indulgent. It was a look Crowley very much preferred over the one he found him with. If there was anything Crowley enjoyed, it was indulging Aziraphale. That he, himself, could be the indulgence, that was doing a good job of turning his insides to something warm and syrupy.

“Then I should stay here.”

“Yes, quite.”

Crowley pulled their clasped hands into his own lap, forcing the angel to sit back on the sofa closer to him.

“Then you can relax now, Angel, I’m not going anywhere and you can keep an eye on me while I do it,” Crowley took up stroking his hand again. After a few moments, Aziraphale scooted closer and then gently rested his head on Crowley’s shoulder, “and if you want some rest I can watch over you for a while.”

“Then we can have cake,” Aziraphale hummed softly, letting his eyes close as Crowley rested his cheek against his curls.


End file.
